


Unforgivable

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Aunt/Nephew Incest, Bellatrix Lestrange - character, Blackcest, Community: deflower_draco, Corruption, Curses, Draco Malfoy - character, F/M, Incest, Loss of Virginity, Mental Breakdown, POV First Person, Rape, victimization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:05:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now, I can put a name to my crimes and curses. Now I know what I did. - A memory and confession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unforgivable

It started simply. These things always do. Though when I say 'these things', it sounds as though it was innocent, something that might occur every day. That is as far as possible from the truth. There was no innocence in it, not after the first night. I knew then what would eventually happen and I did nothing to stop it.

It wasn't as if I could. Out of all of them, I was the smallest, the weakest, and they all knew it. They used that to their advantage, for their own amusements. Casting minor curses at me to make me jump, laughing as I cowered. I was afraid, certain my death lurked around every corner.

Bellatrix was the only one who promised life instead of death, and I clung to that promise. Every moment of attention, every hint of affection. I clung to it, to her, with all my strength, and no matter how vile, how wrong it was, I clutched at it. Her smile could turn a candle's flame into a bonfire and her touch could turn a lightning storm to a summer's mist.

At first, it was nothing more than those smiles. When the others taunted me, swore and kicked at me as if I were little more than a house-elf, Bellatrix would smile. Now I look back and think that the pleasure in the curl of her lips was directed at them, a dark humor twisting her mouth as I trembled. Then, I thought I saw an understanding in her face, a sympathy for my troubles. When the others left me alone, the echo of their laughs and curses still pounding in my ears, I would look at her and she would smile, and I would think she cared. In that whole house, in the whole world, I felt she was the only one who cared.

Each smile was a poisonous draught, and I drank every last one she gave me.

A simple thing, a smile, and it was enough to catch me. When she came for our next lesson, I stopped fighting her. I let her slip into my mind and let her caress my thoughts. She delved deeper, reaching for the glimmers hidden in the darkest corners, and she smiled as she found each one. She brought them up and turned them over, examining them. Every thought, every memory, every fear and every hope. Nothing escaped her.

She especially liked my memories of her smiles. She stroked my hair and brushed my cheek, pleased with me. It was the next thing I clung to, those oddly gentle touches. I kept them close, going over them again and again at night. I fell asleep with the warmth of her hand against my jaw and woke with the strength of her fingers on my shoulder. When the others played their games and tormented me, she smiled, and when I passed by her afterwards, shaking and pained, she moved her hand. The small movement stirred my robes against my side and I imagined it was her fingers brushing my skin.

I should have known then where it would lead, but I was already trapped. In those days, my house held no pleasure, no care, no love. I felt there was nothing there for me except fear. Bellatrix took all of that away. She emptied me of that and filled me with the sense of her. A smile and a touch, and I was hers.

I wish I could say it took the darkest of magics, some spell or curse to drag me along and force me onto that path, but no. I went of my own will, desperate for more. Her smiles, I craved; her touches, I needed.

She sat next to me at dinner when our master demanded our presence. He looked us over, his gaze as cold and sharp as daggers, but with Bellatrix at my side, I kept my chin high. I wanted her to look at me with that warmth. I wanted her to whisper my name with that pride. I ordered myself to show none of my fear and by the end of the meal, I could feel her approval.

She slipped her hand under the table and settled it on my knee. Squeezing first, then a soft pat, and her palm rested on my thigh. When our master left, Bellatrix turned her head and I felt her breath on my cheek as she leaned closer to me. Her words burned through my blood and nestled into my heart.

Well done.

Those two words sank deep into me and for hours I could hear nothing else. Well done, well done. The weight of her hand on my thigh, as warm and comfortable as it had been, was nothing compared to the weight of her words in my heart. She had approved; she was proud. My blood pounded, hot with the fire of her pleasure.

If I had ever had any chance of escaping from her pull, it was gone. Two words, and I belonged to her entirely.

I shudder to admit now what I thought then. I thought, in those days of fright and pain, that I had found the one person who could understand me, the one person who could give me the care I so desperately wanted. I understand now that her amusement was in my terror and that her pleasure was in my fear, but at that time I saw nothing but affection. Her smile, her touch, her quiet words of praise. That was all I could see. I believed it meant she loved me and I believed that I loved her. I knew I had to show her the depth of that love.

I waited until the world was silent in the blackest hour before the sun rose. I slipped through the darkened rooms of the house to her chambers. Wand tight in my grip, I pressed my free hand to the heavy oak of her door. I knew that I would need all of my skill to impress her; I knew I would need to use all she had taught me to prove my devotion to her.

I touched my wand to the latch and silently unlocked the door. The layout of her chambers was familiar to me from our private lessons and I needed no light to find my way to the bed in the last room. A sparkle of moonlight fell on her shoulder, bare and shimmering. I held my breath, looking her over. Her hair tangled across the pillows; her limbs sprawled over the sheets. She slept naked, and I allowed myself a few moments of admiration. Her body bore the marks of her suffering in prison. I thought of kissing each scar and line, of running my tongue over them to wipe away old pains with new pleasures.

The black brand stood out against the pale flesh of her left arm. I felt my Mark throb, as if calling to hers. She shifted, rolling to her back, and her legs fell open. I stared, unabashed in my curiosity, at the shadowed curls between her thighs. The moonlight leached the color from her body, but I was certain the soft folds would be as pink and full as her mouth when she smiled at me.

I lifted my wand, each movement precise and cautious, and I cast a binding spell. First her wrists, then her ankles, wrapping each with a thick silken rope that fastened to the posts of the bed. Bellatrix woke when the knots tightened. She struggled against them, fighting as she shook off sleep. When she noticed me at the side of her bed, she stilled. She tipped her head back, regarding me through her lashes. Her mouth curled.

It was a sneer, I understand now. A snarl at the boy who thought he was a man. But then, trapped by my own beliefs, I saw a smile, a quirk of her lips in approval and invitation.

The binding spell was one she'd taught me and as she opened her mouth I used a second of her lessons. A curse that locked her voice in her throat and kept her silent. Her eyes flared with heat and I shivered, thinking of her pride at my skill. I touched one finger to her lips and shook my head. She kept her eyes on my face as I slid my hand down to brush over her neck, to feel the pulse racing in her throat.

Lower. I dragged my hand lower, over the ridges of her thin chest, over the padded mounds of her breasts. Her nipples tightened beneath my hand and I stopped, watching with fascination. The skin around them crinkled as if to push her nipples higher. I took one between my fingers and tugged at it, testing to see how high it would go.

She rocked on the bed. Her chest lifted and her breast pushed into my palm. Encouraged by the movement, I took a tighter grip to twist and pinch her nipple. She shuddered, tugging at her bonds. It was beautiful to watch. Her trembles and straining made my cock stiffen and I released her to lay my hand over it.

Bellatrix fought against the ropes again and I nodded. Of course, I thought. It was clear to me, as clear as if she'd been able to speak. I needed to show her more. The binding spell, the silencing curse - they were barely tricks. She had taught me so much more. I leaned over her, my wand at her ribs beneath her breast, and I met her eyes.

The Imperius tore through her. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, she lay still. The rapid lift of her chest as she breathed was her only movement. I cupped her cheek, rubbing my thumb over her lips. I could feel the warmth in her skin and I knew she approved. I knew she was proud of me.

When I think of it now, I'm certain that a part of her was indeed proud of me. Whatever else I did, I had shown that I had learned her lessons, that I had allowed myself to fall into the lure of Dark magics. Even as she was my captive in that moment, I was hers. If I had bound any other woman, I don't doubt that Bellatrix would have danced with joy.

She lay quiet under the command of the curse. I bent to kiss her, my tongue tracing the outline of her mouth and slipping between her lips. Her heart pounded under my hand; her breasts rose beneath my fingers. I explored her mouth, the ridges of her teeth and the wet slope of her tongue, until I knew every inch of it.

I lifted up and drew my wand down her face, from arch of her forehead to the point of her nose to the soft skin below her jaw. She was beautiful, so very beautiful, and she belonged to me. Finally, I thought, she belonged to me as utterly as I belonged to her. She'd captured me with a smile and I'd captured her with a curse.

I slid my hand along her body, tracing the curves of her. The swell of her breasts, the flat slope of her belly, the points of her hips, and the thick curls between her thighs. She was warm against my fingers, her folds plump and dry. It wasn't right, it wasn't enough, and I looked into her eyes and whispered to her. I asked her to give me what I needed. She was unable to deny me.

Her breath came faster, chest heaving, her nipples darkening in the moonlight. When I pressed a finger into her, I felt her starting to slicken. The deeper I pushed, the wetter she felt, and I drew out her moisture on the tip of my finger. I couldn't help myself then. I needed to know how she tasted.

Salt and heat and damp, like a summer fog by the sea. It was an intoxicant, almost deadly in its temptation, and I felt my knees buckle. I caught myself on the edge of the bed and I know I couldn't wait any longer. She was wet for me, because of me, and I was ready for her.

My hands trembled as I set my wand aside and stripped out of my robes. Hurried glimpses in magazines passed around the locker room, whispered rumors in the dorms - I knew the mechanics of what I intended to do, but the reality of it was something that no one could have ever explained to me. I memorized it all as I settled over her, locking it into my mind so she could see my progress at our next lesson.

The heat of her body beneath mine.  
The stiff points of her nipples against my chest.  
The soft curves of her thighs under my hips.  
The wet slide of her folds on my fingers.

I wrapped my hand around my cock and fumbled to guide the tip into her. It was difficult at first, as I was unable to see what I was doing, but I wasn't willing to take my eyes from her face. I could see her lips moving as I touched her, groped her open, and I thought I could see the shape of my name on her mouth.

My heart was racing; my lungs ached. I found her opening and pushed in and I nearly shouted at the feel. I couldn't begin to describe it then and I couldn't begin to describe it now. That first touch of a woman, the soft inner flesh, the slick squeeze around me. I froze, hardly inside her at all, and almost terrified to go any further. If I was drowning in sensations already, how could I survive being deeper?

I gasped for breath and balanced on my forearms, my hands on her biceps. Hanging my head until my fringe brushed her chest, I tried to focus. It was impossible. Every thought I had was fading, every line of concentration broken. There was nothing left of me except hard, heat, her.

I shuddered. The unconscious movement pushed me deeper into her. I kept going, kept pressing, and then I felt her flush against me. I'd sunk fully into her and she surrounded me. Her heat, her scent, her smile - it was perfection. I knew it was a moment I'd never forget.

I fought to move, too inexperienced to know what to do. How far to pull out, how hard to thrust in. What to do with my hands, where to put my feet. All of it was a mystery and I struggled with it. I could feel my cheeks heating, not entirely with my efforts. A good deal of it was embarrassment.

I wish I could say it was embarrassment for what I'd done. If I could say it was shame, if I could say it was humiliation, then maybe I could say that I understood how wrong my actions were. There were so many things wrong. She was my mentor, my aunt, my victim. There was nothing about it that could be excused, and I believed, honestly believed, that it was right. I believed I deserved it. I believed I had earned it.

And I believed that Bellatrix loved me. That she'd be proud of me.

I clung to her as I took her, whispering around broken gulps for air. I wanted her to be proud of me, wanted her to love me, and I begged her for it. I begged her to tell me everything I needed to hear. When I felt my blood pounding in my ears, felt it pulsing in my cock, I knew I only had moments. What little rhythm I'd managed to achieve, I lost. My body shook against hers, movements jagged and shattered.

I'll never have the words to explain the ending, the release. The flight into the stars. I hovered at the top of the arc for eternity before I fell into the dive. A wank or a wet dream, I knew what that was like, but it didn't compare to this. Buried deep inside a woman for the first time and coming in that heat.

Her smiles and her touches.... I thought I'd been in love with her before, but after I came, after I collapsed on her, I was even more lost. Forever lost, permanently lost. Perhaps I might have been able to find my way out of the fear and pain of my life when all I'd had was her smiles, but after that? After I entered her rooms and entered her body, taking what I please?

It was far too late. I had learned precisely what she'd taught. I had learned her lessons. Each one, even the worst. I learned, and I was, what she'd wanted.

Then, I thought that. Now, I understand differently. Now, I can put a name to my crimes and curses. Now I know what I did.

When I gained my strength, I rolled off her and to my feet. I pulled on my robes and took up my wand. I cupped her cheek without looking at her eyes, and I bent over her for another kiss before I left her in her bed, covered with the touch of moonlight and the memory of my body on hers.

At the door, I realized I had left her tied and cursed. I lifted my wand and released my spells. As I stepped into the hall, I heard her scream, and as I shut the door behind me, I heard her laugh. Wild, loud laughter, sharp and brittle as glass.

I went back to my rooms, shivering. She would do far more than smile at me the next time we met, I was sure of it. I had earned far more than her gentle touches. I had made her laugh.

I had made Bellatrix laugh.

I would never be weak again.


End file.
